


The Sorcerer's Stone (Harry Potter Various x Reader)

by KaitlynnPerkins



Series: Harry Potter Various x Reader [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Reader-Insert, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaitlynnPerkins/pseuds/KaitlynnPerkins
Summary: I don't really know what to say... It's the Sorcerer's Stone with a reader in it...I'm going to add my own characters BTWI have a Wattpad, too: https://my.w.tt/tmlX0m2QV5
Series: Harry Potter Various x Reader [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715689
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. Notes for the Reader

**(Y/N) -** Your Name

 **(L/N) -** Your Last Name

 **(M/N) -** Mom's Name

 **(M/H/C) -** Mom's Hair Color

 **(M/E/C) -** Mom's Eye Color

 **(D/N) -** Dad's Name

 **(D/H/C) -** Dad's Hair Color

 **(D/E/C) -** Dad's Eye Color

You have (H/L) (H/C) hair and greenish silver eyes, this is an important part of the book. Your eye color will be green when your happy, and silver when your sad or mad. They will be greenish silver when you are content. Your birthday is the 31th of October (Halloween).

Your parents died really young, and you live with their old friends, Justin and Rachel Spence, and their two twins, Thora and Iliana. Thora is the more protective, outgoing, twin. Iliana is more gentle, easier to get along with. Thora and Iliana's birthday is April 14th. You and the twins are really smart, like competition for Hermione, smart.

**You are a muggle-born.**


	2. Hogwarts?

**(Y/N)’s POV**

I was walking home on the last day of school with my best friends, Thora and Iliana Spence. Thora was short about 4’9”, she had long frizzy brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, and tan skin. Iliana, however, looked completely different from her twin. She had straight short hair and bright green eyes. She was tall for our age, about 5’5” and she was really pale. Me, I looked more like Iliana than Thora, even though we were not related. I had (H/L) (H/C) hair, with sparkling greenish silver eyes, and tan skin. I was a little shorter than Iliana, about 5’3”. All of us are really athletic, we ran cross country and track, and we were really smart. We got back our end of year exams today, and all of us got higher than a %95 on each of them.

  
We had just finished our last year at Glenwood Elementary and were talking about what the middle school, Jefferson, might be like.

“It’s almost like we’ll be kindergarteners again!” Thora complained.

I grinned, “Hey, we’re like five years older than that!”

I say that Thora and Iliana are my best friends but there is pretty much my sisters. My parents died like 9 years ago. They were driving home from a friends house, and they were hit head on my another car. I was staying with the twins and their parents at the time. When their mom, Rachel, learned that my parents were dead, she automatically took me in. Ever since then, I’ve lived with them.

Anyway, we were walking into the house, and a very stern looking woman was talking to Ms. Rachel, and Mr. Justin (Thora and Iliana’s dad). She was a tall woman with black hair and green eyes.

“(Y/N), Thora, Iliana, this is Professor McGonagall. She has come to talk to you about school.” Ms. Rachel said, smiling at the three of us.

“Hello, girls.” Professor McGonagall said, smiling slightly.

“Hello!” the three of us said simultaneously, it was like the three of us were triplets, not Thora and Iliana twins, and me like their adopted sister.

“I have come to inform you that you three have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Professor McGonagall said.

“Aparently, you three are witches,” Ms. Rachel said. “On September 1st you can attend the school, if you’d like.”

I glanced at the twins, each of them with a different look in their eyes. Thora, she looked confident, as usual, and Iliana, a little shocked, amazed, and a little afraid. I probably looked the same as Iliana.

Mr. Justin walked up behind us and rested a hand on my shoulder. Mr. Justin looked a lot like Thora same color hair just short and spiked up in the front, same chocolate brown eyes, same confident smirk.

I glanced up at him, a little startled to see the love and admiration blazing in his eyes as he looked at me, then to his two daughters.

“Well, girls, if you’d like to go to Hogwarts, you’d better tell me now so I can get you three enrolled for next year. “ Professor McGonagall said.

“Of course I want to go!” Thora and I said at the same time. Then we looked at each other and grinned.

Iliana looked a little sceptical, “Yeah, I guess. “

“Alright then,” Professor McGonagall said standing up, “I will see you three at Hogwarts on September 1. Before I go, however, let me give you these,” she said handing each of us a letter written on heavy parchment. In green writing on the front of mine it said:

**Ms. (Y/N) (L/N)**   
**101 Crestent View Ln.**   
**Hampstead**   
**London**

“Well girls, see you at Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall said nodding to Ms. Rachel, and Mr. Justin, and walking out the front door.

It was very quiet in the living room after Professor McGonagall left.

“And now it’s quiet” I said, smiling slightly as I heard everyone else laugh.

“Well, come on,” Thora said.

“Now I’m confused,” I said. “Where are we going? “

“To read our letters, duh.” Thora said.

“Thora, why don’t you read the letter, I want to go for a walk for a little bit.” Iliana said, glancing at her parents, asking permission to leave, and they nodded.

“Why don’t I come with you?” I suggested. She looked gratefully at me, and I followed her out of the house onto the street.

“How did you take that?” I asked Iliana as we started down the road.

“I’m pretty sure my anxiety was about to kick in and take over,” She muttered, and I flinched at her words. Iliana and I both had anxiety, when something happened to either of us, we could count on the other to help us out. Iliana and I were closer than Iliana was towards her twin.

“Want to stop at the playground on a bit, we can sit down and get your breath back.” We both were told by the doctor that talking deep breaths would calm down anxiety.

“Yeah,” She responded, her short brown hair flowing behind her as the win blew slightly.

We saw the playground, and we sat down on the swing set. We both took deep breaths, long, controlled, breaths.

Then I saw something that made my blood boil. There was a girl from our school that had just been shoved by two other girls. The first girl stumbled, and fell, and the others laughed. One of the bullies had dark red hair and blue eyes, she had a sneer on her face, the other had dirty blond hair, and dark green eyes, she looked a little nervous, but was still laughing all the same.

“Wait here,” I told Iliana, gritting my teeth in anger. The girl who was being shoved wasn’t even a threat, she was usually a very gentle girl. I stood up walked over to the girls, and I helped the one who had fallen up. She had frizzy brown hair and large front teeth and chocolate brown eyes.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“No problem,” I said, smiling softly, “Now, you two, get out of here!” I said, snapping, my eyes blazing with undisguised fury.

The one of the two girls stepped back at the look on my face. “No need to get angry,” she said.

The other got right up in my face, “Yeah, shut up orphan.” I started shaking with anger.

I nudged the brown haired girl to where Iliana was, now standing up. I could see the shock and anger in her eyes at what the one had said. “Go on, go over to Iliana.” I said softly to the brown haired girl. She looked gratefully at me and walked over to Iliana, who put an arm around the shorter girl’s shoulder.

“Okay, now you two, listen here. Just because my parents died doesn’t mean I’m an orphan. The Spences are the greatest family anyone could ever have.” I said, venom drippin from every word that I said to the two girls.

The one who was all up in my face shoved me back. The other was looking a little scared and stepped away. I shoved the first girl back, and she stumbled.

I don’t really know what happened then but Iliana told me that, until now, she had never seen anything as bad as what happened.

The girl charged right at me and punched me straight in the nose. At once, it started bleeding. I looked up at her, and kicked her in the shins, not wanting to cause damage, I wasn’t that cruel. A fire was blazing in the girl’s eyes now, and she lunged at knocking me down. She started kicking me everywhere, the shins, my stomach, and at my face. At this point, I was in so much pain I thought I was going to die until someone pulled the girl away from me.

It was Thora! “Leave my sister alone!” she screamed angrily, as Iliana and the other brown haired girl who was standing with her, pulled me away, hauling me to my feet. I was heavily leaning on Iliana, who was keeping me steady.

I watched in shock and pain as Thora screamed insults at the girl who, moments before had been beating me up. Both of the girls looked at each other and then the two bullies ran away.

As soon as they left Thora ran over to me. “Oh my god!” she said looking at the blood running down my face.

“Does this happen a lot?” The short girl, the first to be bullied said, looking shocked.

“Sadly, yes.” Iliana said, gazing sorrowfully at me.

“What’s your name?” Thora asked the short girl.

“Uh, Hermione,” she said.

“Can you help get (Y/N) home, Hermione?” Iliana asked.

“Of course, those two girls have been bullying me for years. I might look be looking like her right now…” Hermione faltered.

“Well, let’s go. Hermione, Iliana take an arm, I’ll lead the way home.” Thora said.

“No, it’s fine, I can walk.” I interjected, seeming to shock all three of them. Hermione and Iliana let go of my arms, and I limped after Thora. I saw Iliana and Hermione glance at each other before following.

As we arrived onto our street, Iliana sprinted past Thora and I, into our house. She had always been a faster sprinter than Thora or me, I thought smiling, wincing as my busted lip throbbed.

Ms. Rachel ran out of the house, Iliana sprinting after her. “Not again, not again!” Ms. Rachel was muttering. “What happened?!”

“We were on our walk, and when we got to the playground, two girls were picking on Hermione,” Iliana said, gesturing to Hermione, as the question shone in her mother’s eyes. “Then… “ Iliana broke off, glancing at me.

“They called me an orphan.” I whispered softly, “Then I got angry… “ Ms. Rachel’s eyes widened. “I’d probably look a lot worse if Thora hadn’t shown up.” I continued, glancing at Thora, who nodded at me.

“Hermione, are you alright, they pushed you first?” I asked, as she walked up beside me.

“Are you really asking me that? But I’m alright. “ Hermione asked, looking at my bloody face.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Ms. Rachel said sighing.

Thora, Iliana, Hermione and I all followed Ms. Rachel inside the house, and down to the bathroom, where she started cleaning the blood, that was beginning to dry, off my face.

A couple of weeks passed, by now, all the bruises and cuts had disappeared from my face and legs. One good thing that came out of the whole experience was that Hermione, the twins, and I became good friends. Hermione was a shy girl; she was also incredibly smart. The four of us (Hermione, Thora, Iliana, and I) were probably all at a level where we rivaled each other’s marks. We told each other everything, except one thing, Hogwarts. What would Hermione say if we just told her that we were witches? She would probably think that we were insane.

One day Ms. Rachel said it was time for the twins and I to go get our supplies for school. We were in the car, driving to the Leaky Cauldron, the way to get into Diagon Alley. In the car, Thora was reading the list of things that we needed out loud, “Uniform: three sets of plain work robes (black), one plain pointed hat (black) for day wear, one pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar, one winter cloak (black, silver fastenings), please not that all student’s clothes should carry name-tags at all times.”

I signaled for Thora to hand me the list, and she complied. I continued reading, “Books: The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk, A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot, Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling, A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore, Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander; The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble.” I glanced at Iliana, silently asking if she wanted to finish out the list, but she shook her head. I kept reading, “Other Equipment: one want, 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2), 1 set glass or crystal phials, 1 telescope, 1 set brass scales; students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.”

“That’s a lot of stuff. How are we going to pay for all of this?” Iliana muttered, and I grinned at her. I had noticed over the years, that Iliana was a lot more gentle, and caring than her twin.

As if to prove my point Thora responded, “Aw, Iliana you spoil everything. Think on the bright side of things.” I rolled my eyes at Thora’s response.

“Thora, she has a point.” I said, “All this equipment can’t be cheap.” Thora stuck her tongue out at me, and Iliana looked at me, nodding her head in agreement.

“Girls, don’t argue.” Ms. Rachel said, smiling, “Its probably not as much as we would spend on ordinary school supplies.”

Once we arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, we got out of the car, and Thora, as always, led the way in. It was a small, tiny, grubby-looking pub. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. All of a sudden, the low buzz of chatter stopped when two people walked in. One of them was a very tall man, he almost looked to big to be allowed. He had long black hair and a black beard. The other was a small boy with jet-black hair, bottle green eyes, and light skin. The bartender reached for a glass, saying, “The usual, Hagrid?”

“Can’t, Tom, I’m on Hogwarts business,” said the man who must have Hagrid, clapping his great hand on boy’s shoulder and making his knees buckle.

“Good Lord,” said the bartender, peering at the black haired boy, “is this — can this be — ?”

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. “Bless my soul,” whispered the old bartender, “Harry Potter … what an honor.”

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

“Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back.”  
The boy didn’t seem know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry was shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

“Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can’t believe I’m meeting you at last.”

“So proud, Mr. Potter, I’m just so proud.”

“Always wanted to shake your hand — I’m all of a flutter.”

“Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can’t tell you, Diggle’s the name, Dedalus Diggle.”

“I’ve seen you before!” said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle’s top hat fell off in his  
Excitement. “You bowed to me once in a shop.”

“He remembers!” cried Dedalus Diggle.

I rolled my eyes, feeling sorry for the boy. Who wants that much attention? Thora however, was grinning. This is what it must feel like for her every time she gets 1st place in a cross country meet. I looked up at Ms. Rachel, she glanced at the boy before pulling us toward the back of the pub, and out door.

“Mom, how do you know how to get into Diagon Alley?” Iliana asked curiously.

“Professor McGonagall told me how –“ she was cut off as Hagrid and Harry walked out of the pub.

“Told yeh, didn’t I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was  
Tremblin’ ter meet yeh — mind you, he’s usually tremblin’.” Hagrid was saying.

“Is he always that nervous?” Harry asked, not noticing us yet.

“Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin’ outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience. … They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o’ trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject — now, where’s me umbrella?” Hagrid responded.

“Three up … two across …” he muttered. “Right, stand back, Harry.”

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. Hagrid and Harry proceded to walk through the archway.

I saw that the archway was beginning to close, so I pulled the twins and Ms. Rachel through.

“First stop for us is the wizarding bank, Gringots. We need to exchange some of our money into wizarding money.” Ms. Rachel said.

We started down the street towards a large, grand, white building that looked over the rest of Diagon Alley. The doors opened and we walked in, the doors closing behind us. We walked over to what looked like a Santa Clause elf. He had really pointy ears, and was very short.

“Hello, good morning.” Ms. Rachel said, “ We would like to exchange some pounds for wizarding currency. “

“Sounds like I can help you there.” The thing said in a squeaky voice. “Do you know how wizarding currency works?” He asked, it seemed like an afterthought.

“No,” Ms. Rachel admitted.

“Could you tell us, please?” Iliana said shyly.

The creature smiled softly at Iliana’s shyness. “ Of course, in decreasing order of value, they are: Galleon, Sickle, and Knut. They are gold, silver, and bronze, respectively. There are 17 Sickles in a Galleon, and 29 Knuts in a Sickle, meaning there are 493 Knuts to a Galleon.”

A strange light of amazement seemed to flow in each of the twins eyes, and I laughed. “Well, can you please exchange some of our pounds into galleons, sickles, and knuts for us please, Mr. Goblin?” Iliana asked innocently.

**The goblin’s POV**

Usually I would be offended being called Mr. Goblin, but I remembered a small 11 year old girl who called me the same thing about 20 years ago. Poor Lily Potter. “What is your name?” I asked the taller girl.

“Iliana Spence” she responded. I’ll remember that, just like Lily.

I looked kindly at the girl, and took the pound notes from the mother of the three girls and exchanged it. I handed the gold, silver, and bronze back to the mother, and said, “Take care, have a good day.” I was looking at Iliana, so innocent.

I then looked over to the girl who looked so different to the others. Her eyes, such a bright green also reminded me of Lily. She nodded slightly, and Iliana waved as they left through the doors.

**(Y/N)’s POV**

I was thinking as we walked through the doors about how the the goblin’s affectionate attitude toward Iliana seemed to come from something else.

“What do you think, (Y/N)? (Y/N)?” My thoughts were I interrupted as Iliana nudged me.

“What?” I asked, a little confused.

“Mom just asked where you wanted to go first to get supplies.” Iliana said, and Ms. Rachel was looking consernidly. Thora, was standing behind her mother, looking a little sad.

“How about the book shop?” I suggested.

We headed down to a shop titled: Florish and Blots and we bought all of our school books. I was smart though, I grabbed a couple of books for background reading, titled: Hogwarts: A History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and a book that looked like it was for kids titled The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

The next place we went was called Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. Inside were two boys one was the Raven haired boy from the Leaky Cauldron; the other was a short boy with blond hair that was greased back; he had a mean additude about him.

**Harry’s POV (A couple minutes before)**

Might as well get yer uniform,” said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. “Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts.” He did still look a bit sick, so I entered Madam Malkin’s shop.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

“Hogwarts, dear?” she said, when I started to speak. “Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood me a on stool slipped a long robe over my head, and began to pin it to the right length.

“Hello,” said the boy, “Hogwarts, too?”

“Yeah,” I said, not really liking him very much.

“My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,” said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. “Then I’m going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”

“Have you got your own broom?” the boy went on.

“No,” I say.

“Play Quidditch at all?”

“Nope,” I respond.

“I do – Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?”

“No,” I say. I really didn’t like this boy, I thought.

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

“Mmm,” I say, wishing I could say something a bit more interesting.

“I say, look at that man!” says the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at me and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn’t come in.

“That’s Hagrid,” I tell him, pleased to know something the boy didn’t. “He works at Hogwarts.”

“Oh,” says the boy, “I’ve heard of him. He’s a sort of servant, isn’t he?”

“He’s the gamekeeper,” I say. I was liking this boy less and less every second.

“Yes, exactly. I heard he’s a sort of savage – lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed.”

“I think he’s brilliant,” I say coldly.

“Do you?” says the boy, with a slight sneer. “Why is he with you? Where are your parents?”

“They’re dead,” I say shorty. He seemed not to want to talk to this boy any more than he needed to.

“Oh, sorry,” says the other boy, not sounding sorry at all. “But they were our kind, weren’t they?”

“They were a witch and wizard, if that’s what you mean.” I respond.

“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways.”

A tinkling of a bell interrupted the boy. Three girls walk in, two of them look as though they could be twins, but the other looked completely different from the other two.

“Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?”

But before I could answer, Madam Malkin says, “That’s you done, my dear,” and I, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hop down from the footstool.

“Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” says the drawling boy.

**(Y/N)’s POV**

“He seems like butt-hole.” Thora mutters to me, and the Raven haired boy stopped and looked at me as a let out a snort of laughter.

“Thora!” Iliana hisses at her sister.

“Hello” I say to Harry.

“Oh-h hi” Harry says looking nervous.

“This is Thora,” I say gesturing to Thora, “and Iliana,” I say, gesturing to Iliana, “and I am (Y/N).”

“Hi, Thora, and Iliana, and (Y/N), I’m –“ Harry begins before Thora cuts him off.

“You’re Harry,” Harry then looks at Thora, a look of annoyance on his face.

“Let me guess,” Harry says, sounding exasperated, “You’ve read about me too,”

“No,” I answer, “You entered the Leaky Cauldron just after the three of us.”

“Oh,” Harry says, “Well, nice to meet you three,” He says, and walks out the door.

“You three here for your Hogwarts uniforms?” A witch asks me.

“Uh, yes ma’am,” I say, smiling at her.

A couple of minutes later, the twins and I walk out into the bright sunlit alley, our robes folded neatly in a bag.

“Girls!” I hear Ms. Rachel call to us. I look over to see her holding a cage, and two wooden woven baskets. (Try saying that 5 times, fast). She hands the cage to Thora, and inside is a beautiful barn owl.

  
“Wow! Thanks Mom!” Thora says, stroking the owl softly.

Ms. Rachel then hands her other daughter one of the woven baskets, and hands me the other. In Iliana’s basket there’s lays an adorable brown and white kitten.

  
“Hello, little kitten,” Iliana coos to the kitten, and my heart breaks at the adorableness. I look into my basket and a flash of black and white jumps onto my shoulder and I laugh. It jumps off and back onto the lid of the basket.

“Aww! She’s so cute,” Thora says, petting the small kitten’s head gently.

“I’m gonna call her Marvel,” I say, as the kitten jumps back onto my shoulder, it’s tail on the other.

“Well, I think I’m going to call my kitten, Zena,” Iliana says as the brown and white kitten sticks her head out of the basket, and pawing at Iliana’s hand softly.

“I’m going to call this barn owl, Barney,” Thora say, and I let out a snort of laughter. “What?!” She asks, grinning.

**Ms. Rachel’s POV**

I look at the three girls. I loved them so much, even (Y/N), who wasn’t my own. Her mother was my best friend, I had felt to obligated to look after her. I am still angry about the girls that called her an orphan. Maybe soon, I can talk to Justin about adopting her.

“Well, girls,” I say, and they all look up, their eyes alight with excitement, “Looks like it’s time for your last item on the list. You three need wands.”

**(Y/N)’s POV**

I gently set Marvel back into her basket, and look around for the wand shop.

“There!” I say, pointing to it.

All four of us walk closer, and I look up at the sign overhead, and I read aloud, “Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382b.c.”

“Seems promising,” Thora says, and confidently lead the way into the shop.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as we stepped inside, and an old man walks to the desk from the deep recesses of the shop.

“Hello, good afternoon,” The man says, “I am Mr. Olivander. You three are here for wands I presume?” He asks, and the twins and I nod.

“Okay, how about the shortest one first,” Mr. Olivander says, and Thora steps forward excitedly.

Mr. Olivander does a few measurements before handing a wand to Thora saying, “Wave this around a bit.” She does as he says, and a light bulb shatters and she puts the wand back onto the desk.

Thora tries a few more wands until she gets one that makes a teal glow around her. “Ah, yes a Blackthorn wand with a unicorn tail hair. Blackthorn, which is a very unusual wand wood, has the reputation, in my view well-merited, of being best suited to a warrior.”

“Well, makes sense for Thora,” I say with a grin. “Iliana, do you want to go next?” I say, and she nods, stepping forward.

The same process happens with Iliana until she receives a wand that made a purple glow around her. “Applewood with a Phoenix Feather core. Applewood wands are not made in great numbers. They are powerful and best suited to an owner of high aims and ideals, as this wood mixes poorly with Dark magic. It is said that the possessor of an apple wand will be well-loved and long-lived, and I have often noticed that customers of great personal charm find their perfect match in an Applewood wand.”

“Also, makes sense for Iliana,” Thora and I say in unison.

“Okay, (Y/N), your turn,” Ms. Rachel says, and I step forward nervously.

Again, the same process commences with me, but I end up trying more wands then the other two combined. Finally, I get my wand, and strangely my, “Alder wood with a Phoenix Feather core. Alder is an unyielding wood, yet I have discovered that its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, but often helpful, considerate and most likeable. Whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Alder is also excellent for protection against outside forces, and, when combined with phoenix feather, is a suitable match for a wizard who will “make their mark on this world.’” Mr. Olivander says, and I look up at him in shock. “It also just so happens that the Phoenix who’s feather is in your wand, gave two other feathers, just two.”

“Wow,” Iliana says, looking at me. “That’s a beautiful wand,” She says, walking up to stand beside me.

  
**Time Skip – (Y/N)’s POV**

The next month seemed to go very, very slowly. Thora, of course, was super excited about going to Hogwarts. Iliana and I though, seemed to be a lot more nervous about it, like usual.

Iliana and I learned a couple of simple spells, like Reparo, the repairing spell, Alohomora, the unlocking spell, and Lumos, the wand lighting spell.

The day before we were going to head to Hogwarts, all three of us packed our trunks of all our things for school.

**Time Skip – The Next Morning – (Y/N)’s POV**

“Do you two have your inhalers?” Ms. Rachel asks frantically.

“Yes Mom,” Iliana answers for the two of us. On top of having anxiety, we also had asthma, which wasn’t fun, ever.

“Well, let’s get to the car,” Ms. Rachel says, and the three of us drag our heavy trunks out of the living room and out to the car. The three of us, the twins and I, I mean, were wearing jeans and t-shirt as we didn’t want to wear our robes in the station.

We heave our trunks into the trunk of the car, get in, and head to King’s Cross.

Once we arrive there, we run to get trollies, and sling our trunks onto them, and wheel them into the station.

“Uh, Mom, how do we get onto the station?” Iliana asks.

“Maybe we just run into the wall between Platforms 9 and 10,” I say jokingly.

Thora raises her eyebrows at me, and she says, “Or, we could ask someone how to get onto the Platform.”

We look around to see a plump woman walking by with four boys and a young girl, all with flaming red hair, and the four boys were pushing trunks.

“Come on,” I say, pulling them closer to the family.

“Um, hello,” Iliana says shyly, and the woman turns to us.

“Hello, dears, need to get onto the Platform?” The woman asks.

“Yes, ma’am,” Iliana says, and the woman smiles.

“All you have to do is run into the wall between Platforms 9 and 10,” The woman says, and I shoot a triumphant smirk at Thora.

“Haha, I was right!” I say triumphantly.

The plump woman laughs and we all walk toward the barrier, Ms. Rachel and the plump woman starting up a conversation.

I jump at two voices coming from behind me, “Hello-“

“We’re Fred –“

“And George –“

“Weasley,” They finish in unison.

I turn around to see to identical boys, about two years older than the twins and I.

“Hello I’m (Y/N), this is Thora and Iliana,” I say introducing myself and the twins.

“Are the two of you twins?” Thora asks, grinning.

“Yes –“ Fred, I think, begins.

“Of, course we are.” George, again, I think, finishes.

“Well, my two friends here are twins as well,” I say, and Fred and George look at the two Spence’s curiously.

“Well, why are you here with them, if they are your friends?” George asks curiously.

Thora, Iliana and I all look at each other uncomfortably, “Well,” Thora trails off.

“It’s a long story,” Iliana finishes.

We get to the barrier, and the four of us (Iliana, Thora, Ms. Rachel, and I) walk through the barrier.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock.

“Wow!” Iliana says, her eyes wide with wonder. There were so many people on the Platform that I couldn’t count them all. On top of that, there were cats and owls of so many colors it was hard to believe so many existed.

**3rd Person POV – With Harry**

According to the large clock over the arrivals board, Harry had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and he had no idea how to do it; he was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large owl.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell him something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. He wondered if he should get out his wand and start tapping the ticket inspector’s stand between platforms nine and ten.

At that moment a group of people passed just behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

“— packed with Muggles, of course —”

Harry swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry’s in front of him — and they had an owl.

Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

Now, what’s the platform number?” said the boys’ mother.

“Nine and three-quarters!” piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, “Mom, can’t I go . . .”

“You’re not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first.”

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward Platforms Nine and Ten. Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it — but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two Platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

“Fred, you next,” the plump woman said.

“I’m not Fred, I’m George,” said the boy. “Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can’t you tell I’m George?”

“Sorry, George, dear.”

“Only joking, I am Fred,” said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone — but how had he done it?

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier — he was almost there — and then, quite suddenly, he wasn’t anywhere.

There was nothing else for it.

“Excuse me,” Harry said to the plump woman.

“Hello, dear,” she said. “First time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.”

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.  
“Yes,” said Harry. “The thing is — the thing is, I don’t know how to —”

“How to get onto the platform?” she said kindly, and Harry nodded.

“Not to worry,” she said. “All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous. Go on, go now before Ron.”

“Er — okay,” said Harry.

He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to Platforms Nine and Ten. Harry walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he’d be in trouble — leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run — the barrier was coming nearer and nearer — he wouldn’t be able to stop — the cart was out of control — he was a foot away — he closed his eyes ready for the crash —

It didn’t come . . . he kept on running . . . he opened his eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, “Gran, I’ve lost my toad again.”  
“Oh, Neville,” he heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

“Give us a look, Lee, go on.”  
The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the traindoor. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.

“Want a hand?” It was one of the red-haired twins he’d followed through the barrier.

“Yes, please,” Harry panted.

“Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!”

With the twins’ help, Harry’s trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

Thanks,” said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“What’s that?” said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry’s lightning scar.

“Blimey,” said the other twin. “Are you — ?”

“He is,” said the first twin. “Aren’t you?” he added to Harry.

“What?” said Harry.

“Harry Potter,” chorused the twins.

“Oh, him,” said Harry. “I mean, yes, I am.”

The two boys gawked at him, and Harry felt himself turning red. Then, to his relief, a voice came floating in through the train’s open door.

“Fred? George? Are you there?”

“Coming, Mom.”

With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train.

Harry sat down next to the window where, half hidden, he could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief. He also saw the family of the three girls he had met in Diagon Alley at Madam Malkins’s Robe Shop.

He saw the two the mother and father of the three girls, and felt a pang of, almost envy. The father looked a lot like the shortest girl, Thora I believe her name was, with the same black hair and skin tone.

The tallest girl, Iliana, looks a lot like the mother, same short hair, and nervous smile.

The other girl, (Y/N), seems really out of place with the others. She seems to be standing a little off from the other four. Then both the mother and father turn to her, and embrace her in a tight hug, and she smiles, softly, the other two girls glancing at each other, smiling.

Harry is caught off guard as he overhears the conversation-taking place between the red haired family.

“Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?” One of the red-haired twins says.

Harry leaned back quickly so they couldn’t see him looking.

“You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?”

“Who?”

“Harry Potter!”

Harry heard the little girl’s voice. “Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, oh please. . . .”

“You’ve already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn’t something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?” The mother asks, turning to Fred.

“Asked him. Saw his scar. It’s really there — like lightning.”

“Poor dear — no wonder he was alone, I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform.”

“Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?” One of the twins asks.

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

“I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don’t you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school.”

“All right, keep your hair on.”

A whistle sounded.

Hurry up!” their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

“Don’t, Ginny, we’ll send you loads of owls.” Fred says.

“We’ll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat.” George adds.  
“George!”

“Only joking, Mom.”

The train began to move. Harry saw the boys’ mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.

Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn’t know what he was going to — but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.

( **Y/N)’s POV – On the Train**

Thora, Iliana, and I rush to get onto the train before it leaves, walking from compartment to compartment looking for somewhere to sit.

Then I see something that makes me gasp with shock.

There in one of the compartments was Hermione! She was sitting across from a round faced boy.

“Thora! Iliana! Look!” I say, and the twins look, grinning when they see Hermione. “Let me take this,” I say, surprising myself with a confidence that usually only Thora had.

I open the compartment saying, “Mind if we sit here?” Hermione and the round faced boy look up, and Hermione smiles widely, standing up, and giving me a hug.

“Of course, I don’t mind.” Hermione says. “What about you, Neville?” Hermione says, turning towards the round faced boy, whose name was clearly, Neville.

“I don’t mind.” Neville says, then adds, “I just want to find my toad.”

“I’ll help look,” I offer, and I see Thora and Iliana nod as well.

“Coming ‘Mione?” Iliana asks, and Hermione nods.

We all leave the compartment, going in opposite directions, looking for Neville’s toad.

**Time Skip – Still (Y/N)’s POV**

We all meet back up in the compartment we started in.

“Did anyone find Trevor?” Neville asks and we all shake our heads reluctantly, not wanting to give the poor boy any bad news. Neville groans.

“What about we all look together?” I suggest, and the others nod.

“Just give me a moment,” I say, digging through my trunk, looking for my robes.

I find them, then dart out of the compartment to the bathroom, changing quickly, returning to the compartment..

“Okay, off to look for Trevor,” Thora says, laughing slightly.

All five of us walk down the passages asking everyone if they had seen a toad anywhere.

We reach a compartment where Harry and one of the red-haired boys that we had walked through the station with.

Hermione slides the compartment door open, and we all step in.

**3rd Person POV – Harry’s Perspective**

Ron raises his wand just when the compartment door slides open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him, and the three girls from Diagon Alley. (Y/N) and the unknown girl were already wearing their new Hogwarts robes.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” the unknown girl says. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” said Ron, but the girl wasn’t listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.”

She sat down. Ron looks taken aback, but the other three girls didn’t. They just look at each other, a knowing look in their eyes.

“Er — all right.” Ron clears his throat. “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.”

He waves his wand, but nothing happens. Scabbers stays gray and fast asleep.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” says the girl. “Well, it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard — I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?” She says all this very fast.

Harry looks at Ron, and is relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn’t learned all the course books by heart either, but (Y/N) and Iliana look at Hermione, nodding in agreement, clearly meaning that the two of them had learned all the course books by heart.

“I’m Ron Weasley,” Ron mutters.

“Harry Potter,” Harry says.

“Are you really?” asks Hermione. “I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”

“Am I?” asks Harry, feeling dazed.

“Goodness, didn’t you know. I’ve found out everything I could if it was me,” says Hermione. “Do either of you know what House you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around, and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad. . . Anyway, we’d better go look for Neville’s toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.”

Hermione leaves taking Neville, Thora, and Iliana, with her, leaving (Y/N) behind, a glint in her green eyes.

“Sorry about her,” She says, “She’s just really excited about going to Hogwarts, I mean, if you couldn’t tell. Why are your glasses broken?” (Y/N) then asks Harry.

“Cousin . . .” Harry says, and (Y/N) walks over to him, pulling out her wand.

“Let me try something,” she says, pointing her wand in his face, his eyes crossing slightly. “Reparo!” She says, and the glasses mend themselves. Harry takes them off, looking in wonderment between his glasses, Ron, and (Y/N).

“That’s better, isn’t it?” (Y/N) asks, laughing slightly.

“Uh, yeah, thanks, (Y/N),” Harry says.

“Well, I’d better go find my friends,” (Y/N) says, walking out of the compartment, closing the compartment door on the way out.

**Time Skip - (Y/N)’s POV**

A couple of hours after meeting Harry and Ron in their compartment, we arrived at Hogwarts.

A voice echoed through the train, “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately.”

Thora and Iliana fled to put their robes on, coming in about two minutes later.

The train slows down, and finally stops. People push their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. A lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students and a loud voice calls, “Firs’ years? Firs’ years over here! All right there , Harry?” It must have been Hagrid, the man who was with Harry in Diagon Alley.

“C’mon, follow me – any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years follow me!” Hagrid says.

All of us slipping and stumbling, we follow Hagrid down what seems to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark that I thought there must be thick trees here. Nobody spoke much, the only one making any noise was Neville, we still hadn’t been able to find his toad.

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid calls over his shoulder, “jus’ round this bend here.”

There was a loud, “Oooooh!” I didn’t realize that one came from my mouth as well.

A narrow path opens suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling brightly in the starry sky was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid calls, pointing to a fleet of boats sitting in the water by the shore. Thora, Iliana and I are followed into a boat by Hermione of course.

“Everyone in?” Hagrid shouts, who has a boat to himself. “Right then – FORWARD!”

Then the fleet of little boats moves off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. No one spoke as the little fleet of boats carries us through a curtain of ivy that hides a wide opening in the cliff face. We’re carried along a dark tunnel, which seems to be taking us right underneath the castle, until we reach a kind of underground harbor, where we all clamber out onto rocks and pebbles.

“Oy, you there! Is this your toad?” Hagrid asks, who was checking the boats as all of us climb out of them.

“Trevor!” cries Neville blissfully, holding out his hands.

We all clamber up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid’s lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

We all walk up a fight of stone steps and crowd around the huge oak front door.

“Neville, still got Trevor?” I ask, my (H/L), (H/C) hair flying back over my shoulders as the door opens.

**Word Count: 8,635 words**

**Wow! This is the first chapter!**

**What did you think? I hope it was okay.**

**I also just realized that I ended the first chapter with a massive cliffhanger.**

**(Y/N)’s POV**

I was walking home on the last day of school with my best friends, Thora and Iliana Spence. Thora was short about 4’9”, she had long frizzy brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, and tan skin. Iliana, however, looked completely different from her twin. She had straight short hair and bright green eyes. She was tall for our age, about 5’5” and she was really pale. Me, I looked more like Iliana than Thora, even though we were not related. I had (H/L) (H/C) hair, with sparkling greenish silver eyes, and tan skin. I was a little shorter than Iliana, about 5’3”. All of us are really athletic, we ran cross country and track, and we were really smart. We got back our end of year exams today, and all of us got higher than a %95 on each of them.

  
We had just finished our last year at Glenwood Elementary and were talking about what the middle school, Jefferson, might be like.

“It’s almost like we’ll be kindergarteners again!” Thora complained.

I grinned, “Hey, we’re like five years older than that!”

I say that Thora and Iliana are my best friends but there is pretty much my sisters. My parents died like 9 years ago. They were driving home from a friends house, and they were hit head on my another car. I was staying with the twins and their parents at the time. When their mom, Rachel, learned that my parents were dead, she automatically took me in. Ever since then, I’ve lived with them.

Anyway, we were walking into the house, and a very stern looking woman was talking to Ms. Rachel, and Mr. Justin (Thora and Iliana’s dad). She was a tall woman with black hair and green eyes.

“(Y/N), Thora, Iliana, this is Professor McGonagall. She has come to talk to you about school.” Ms. Rachel said, smiling at the three of us.

“Hello, girls.” Professor McGonagall said, smiling slightly.

“Hello!” the three of us said simultaneously, it was like the three of us were triplets, not Thora and Iliana twins, and me like their adopted sister.

“I have come to inform you that you three have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Professor McGonagall said.

“Aparently, you three are witches,” Ms. Rachel said. “On September 1st you can attend the school, if you’d like.”

I glanced at the twins, each of them with a different look in their eyes. Thora, she looked confident, as usual, and Iliana, a little shocked, amazed, and a little afraid. I probably looked the same as Iliana.

Mr. Justin walked up behind us and rested a hand on my shoulder. Mr. Justin looked a lot like Thora same color hair just short and spiked up in the front, same chocolate brown eyes, same confident smirk.

I glanced up at him, a little startled to see the love and admiration blazing in his eyes as he looked at me, then to his two daughters.

“Well, girls, if you’d like to go to Hogwarts, you’d better tell me now so I can get you three enrolled for next year. “ Professor McGonagall said.

“Of course I want to go!” Thora and I said at the same time. Then we looked at each other and grinned.

Iliana looked a little sceptical, “Yeah, I guess. “

“Alright then,” Professor McGonagall said standing up, “I will see you three at Hogwarts on September 1. Before I go, however, let me give you these,” she said handing each of us a letter written on heavy parchment. In green writing on the front of mine it said:

**Ms. (Y/N) (L/N)**   
**101 Crestent View Ln.**   
**Hampstead**   
**London**

“Well girls, see you at Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall said nodding to Ms. Rachel, and Mr. Justin, and walking out the front door.

It was very quiet in the living room after Professor McGonagall left.

“And now it’s quiet” I said, smiling slightly as I heard everyone else laugh.

“Well, come on,” Thora said.

“Now I’m confused,” I said. “Where are we going? “

“To read our letters, duh.” Thora said.

“Thora, why don’t you read the letter, I want to go for a walk for a little bit.” Iliana said, glancing at her parents, asking permission to leave, and they nodded.

“Why don’t I come with you?” I suggested. She looked gratefully at me, and I followed her out of the house onto the street.

“How did you take that?” I asked Iliana as we started down the road.

“I’m pretty sure my anxiety was about to kick in and take over,” She muttered, and I flinched at her words. Iliana and I both had anxiety, when something happened to either of us, we could count on the other to help us out. Iliana and I were closer than Iliana was towards her twin.

“Want to stop at the playground on a bit, we can sit down and get your breath back.” We both were told by the doctor that talking deep breaths would calm down anxiety.

“Yeah,” She responded, her short brown hair flowing behind her as the win blew slightly.

We saw the playground, and we sat down on the swing set. We both took deep breaths, long, controlled, breaths.

Then I saw something that made my blood boil. There was a girl from our school that had just been shoved by two other girls. The first girl stumbled, and fell, and the others laughed. One of the bullies had dark red hair and blue eyes, she had a sneer on her face, the other had dirty blond hair, and dark green eyes, she looked a little nervous, but was still laughing all the same.

“Wait here,” I told Iliana, gritting my teeth in anger. The girl who was being shoved wasn’t even a threat, she was usually a very gentle girl. I stood up walked over to the girls, and I helped the one who had fallen up. She had frizzy brown hair and large front teeth and chocolate brown eyes (Three guesses who this is).

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“No problem,” I said, smiling softly, “Now, you two, get out of here!” I said, snapping, my eyes blazing with undisguised fury.

The one of the two girls stepped back at the look on my face. “No need to get angry,” she said.

The other got right up in my face, “Yeah, shut up orphan.” I started shaking with anger.

I nudged the brown haired girl to where Iliana was, now standing up. I could see the shock and anger in her eyes at what the one had said. “Go on, go over to Iliana.” I said softly to the brown haired girl. She looked gratefully at me and walked over to Iliana, who put an arm around the shorter girl’s shoulder.

“Okay, now you two, listen here. Just because my parents died doesn’t mean I’m an orphan. The Spences are the greatest family anyone could ever have.” I said, venom drippin from every word that I said to the two girls.

The one who was all up in my face shoved me back. The other was looking a little scared and stepped away. I shoved the first girl back, and she stumbled.

I don’t really know what happened then but Iliana told me that, until now, she had never seen anything as bad as what happened.

The girl charged right at me and punched me straight in the nose. At once, it started bleeding. I looked up at her, and kicked her in the shins, not wanting to cause damage, I wasn’t that cruel. A fire was blazing in the girl’s eyes now, and she lunged at knocking me down. She started kicking me everywhere, the shins, my stomach, and at my face. At this point, I was in so much pain I thought I was going to die until someone pulled the girl away from me.

It was Thora! “Leave my sister alone!” she screamed angrily, as Iliana and the other brown haired girl who was standing with her, pulled me away, hauling me to my feet. I was heavily leaning on Iliana, who was keeping me steady.

I watched in shock and pain as Thora screamed insults at the girl who, moments before had been beating me up. Both of the girls looked at each other and then the two bullies ran away.

As soon as they left Thora ran over to me. “Oh my god!” she said looking at the blood running down my face.

“Does this happen a lot?” The short girl, the first to be bullied said, looking shocked.

“Sadly, yes.” Iliana said, gazing sorrowfully at me.

“What’s your name?” Thora asked the short girl.

“Uh, Hermione,” she said.

“Can you help get (Y/N) home, Hermione?” Iliana asked.

“Of course, those two girls have been bullying me for years. I might look be looking like her right now…” Hermione faltered.

“Well, let’s go. Hermione, Iliana take an arm, I’ll lead the way home.” Thora said.

“No, it’s fine, I can walk.” I interjected, seeming to shock all three of them. Hermione and Iliana let go of my arms, and I limped after Thora. I saw Iliana and Hermione glance at each other before following.

As we arrived onto our street, Iliana sprinted past Thora and I, into our house. She had always been a faster sprinter than Thora or me, I thought smiling, wincing as my busted lip throbbed.

Ms. Rachel ran out of the house, Iliana sprinting after her. “Not again, not again!” Ms. Rachel was muttering. “What happened?!”

“We were on our walk, and when we got to the playground, two girls were picking on Hermione,” Iliana said, gesturing to Hermione, as the question shone in her mother’s eyes. “Then… “ Iliana broke off, glancing at me.

“They called me an orphan.” I whispered softly, “Then I got angry… “ Ms. Rachel’s eyes widened. “I’d probably look a lot worse if Thora hadn’t shown up.” I continued, glancing at Thora, who nodded at me.

“Hermione, are you alright, they pushed you first?” I asked, as she walked up beside me.

“Are you really asking me that? But I’m alright. “ Hermione asked, looking at my bloody face.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Ms. Rachel said sighing.

Thora, Iliana, Hermione and I all followed Ms. Rachel inside the house, and down to the bathroom, where she started cleaning the blood, that was beginning to dry, off my face.

A couple of weeks passed, by now, all the bruises and cuts had disappeared from my face and legs. One good thing that came out of the whole experience was that Hermione, the twins, and I became good friends. Hermione was a shy girl; she was also incredibly smart. The four of us (Hermione, Thora, Iliana, and I) were probably all at a level where we rivaled each other’s marks. We told each other everything, except one thing, Hogwarts. What would Hermione say if we just told her that we were witches? She would probably think that we were insane.

One day Ms. Rachel said it was time for the twins and I to go get our supplies for school. We were in the car, driving to the Leaky Cauldron, the way to get into Diagon Alley. In the car, Thora was reading the list of things that we needed out loud, “Uniform: three sets of plain work robes (black), one plain pointed hat (black) for day wear, one pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar, one winter cloak (black, silver fastenings), please not that all student’s clothes should carry name-tags at all times.”

I signaled for Thora to hand me the list, and she complied. I continued reading, “Books: The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk, A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot, Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling, A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore, Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander; The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble.” I glanced at Iliana, silently asking if she wanted to finish out the list, but she shook her head. I kept reading, “Other Equipment: one want, 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2), 1 set glass or crystal phials, 1 telescope, 1 set brass scales; students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.”

“That’s a lot of stuff. How are we going to pay for all of this?” Iliana muttered, and I grinned at her. I had noticed over the years, that Iliana was a lot more gentle, and caring than her twin.

As if to prove my point Thora responded, “Aw, Iliana you spoil everything. Think on the bright side of things.” I rolled my eyes at Thora’s response.

“Thora, she has a point.” I said, “All this equipment can’t be cheap.” Thora stuck her tongue out at me, and Iliana looked at me, nodding her head in agreement.

“Girls, don’t argue.” Ms. Rachel said, smiling, “Its probably not as much as we would spend on ordinary school supplies.”

Once we arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, we got out of the car, and Thora, as always, led the way in. It was a small, tiny, grubby-looking pub. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. All of a sudden, the low buzz of chatter stopped when two people walked in. One of them was a very tall man, he almost looked to big to be allowed. He had long black hair and a black beard. The other was a small boy with jet-black hair, bottle green eyes, and light skin. The bartender reached for a glass, saying, “The usual, Hagrid?”

“Can’t, Tom, I’m on Hogwarts business,” said the man who must have Hagrid, clapping his great hand on boy’s shoulder and making his knees buckle.

“Good Lord,” said the bartender, peering at the black haired boy, “is this — can this be — ?”

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. “Bless my soul,” whispered the old bartender, “Harry Potter … what an honor.”

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

“Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back.”  
The boy didn’t seem know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry was shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

“Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can’t believe I’m meeting you at last.”

“So proud, Mr. Potter, I’m just so proud.”

“Always wanted to shake your hand — I’m all of a flutter.”

“Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can’t tell you, Diggle’s the name, Dedalus Diggle.”

“I’ve seen you before!” said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle’s top hat fell off in his  
Excitement. “You bowed to me once in a shop.”

“He remembers!” cried Dedalus Diggle.

I rolled my eyes, feeling sorry for the boy. Who wants that much attention? Thora however, was grinning. This is what it must feel like for her every time she gets 1st place in a cross country meet. I looked up at Ms. Rachel, she glanced at the boy before pulling us toward the back of the pub, and out door.

“Mom, how do you know how to get into Diagon Alley?” Iliana asked curiously.

“Professor McGonagall told me how –“ she was cut off as Hagrid and Harry walked out of the pub.

“Told yeh, didn’t I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was  
Tremblin’ ter meet yeh — mind you, he’s usually tremblin’.” Hagrid was saying.

“Is he always that nervous?” Harry asked, not noticing us yet.

“Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin’ outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience. … They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o’ trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject — now, where’s me umbrella?” Hagrid responded.

“Three up … two across …” he muttered. “Right, stand back, Harry.”

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. Hagrid and Harry proceded to walk through the archway.

I saw that the archway was beginning to close, so I pulled the twins and Ms. Rachel through.

“First stop for us is the wizarding bank, Gringots. We need to exchange some of our money into wizarding money.” Ms. Rachel said.

We started down the street towards a large, grand, white building that looked over the rest of Diagon Alley. The doors opened and we walked in, the doors closing behind us. We walked over to what looked like a Santa Clause elf. He had really pointy ears, and was very short.

“Hello, good morning.” Ms. Rachel said, “ We would like to exchange some pounds for wizarding currency. “

“Sounds like I can help you there.” The thing said in a squeaky voice. “Do you know how wizarding currency works?” He asked, it seemed like an afterthought.

“No,” Ms. Rachel admitted.

“Could you tell us, please?” Iliana said shyly.

The creature smiled softly at Iliana’s shyness. “ Of course, in decreasing order of value, they are: Galleon, Sickle, and Knut. They are gold, silver, and bronze, respectively. There are 17 Sickles in a Galleon, and 29 Knuts in a Sickle, meaning there are 493 Knuts to a Galleon.”

A strange light of amazement seemed to flow in each of the twins eyes, and I laughed. “Well, can you please exchange some of our pounds into galleons, sickles, and knuts for us please, Mr. Goblin?” Iliana asked innocently.

**The goblin’s POV**

Usually I would be offended being called Mr. Goblin, but I remembered a small 11 year old girl who called me the same thing about 20 years ago. Poor Lily Potter. “What is your name?” I asked the taller girl.

“Iliana Spence” she responded. I’ll remember that, just like Lily.

I looked kindly at the girl, and took the pound notes from the mother of the three girls and exchanged it. I handed the gold, silver, and bronze back to the mother, and said, “Take care, have a good day.” I was looking at Iliana, so innocent.

I then looked over to the girl who looked so different to the others. Her eyes, such a bright green also reminded me of Lily. She nodded slightly, and Iliana waved as they left through the doors.

**(Y/N)’s POV**

I was thinking as we walked through the doors about how the the goblin’s affectionate attitude toward Iliana seemed to come from something else.

“What do you think, (Y/N)? (Y/N)?” My thoughts were I interrupted as Iliana nudged me.

“What?” I asked, a little confused.

“Mom just asked where you wanted to go first to get supplies.” Iliana said, and Ms. Rachel was looking consernidly. Thora, was standing behind her mother, looking a little sad.

“How about the book shop?” I suggested.

We headed down to a shop titled: Florish and Blots and we bought all of our school books. I was smart though, I grabbed a couple of books for background reading, titled: Hogwarts: A History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and a book that looked like it was for kids titled The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

The next place we went was called Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. Inside were two boys one was the Raven haired boy from the Leaky Cauldron; the other was a short boy with blond hair that was greased back; he had a mean additude about him.

**Harry’s POV (A couple minutes before)**

Might as well get yer uniform,” said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. “Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts.” He did still look a bit sick, so I entered Madam Malkin’s shop.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

“Hogwarts, dear?” she said, when I started to speak. “Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood me a on stool slipped a long robe over my head, and began to pin it to the right length.

“Hello,” said the boy, “Hogwarts, too?”

“Yeah,” I said, not really liking him very much.

“My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,” said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. “Then I’m going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”

“Have you got your own broom?” the boy went on.

“No,” I say.

“Play Quidditch at all?”

“Nope,” I respond.

“I do – Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?”

“No,” I say. I really didn’t like this boy, I thought.

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

“Mmm,” I say, wishing I could say something a bit more interesting.

“I say, look at that man!” says the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at me and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn’t come in.

“That’s Hagrid,” I tell him, pleased to know something the boy didn’t. “He works at Hogwarts.”

“Oh,” says the boy, “I’ve heard of him. He’s a sort of servant, isn’t he?”

“He’s the gamekeeper,” I say. I was liking this boy less and less every second.

“Yes, exactly. I heard he’s a sort of savage – lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed.”

“I think he’s brilliant,” I say coldly.

“Do you?” says the boy, with a slight sneer. “Why is he with you? Where are your parents?”

“They’re dead,” I say shorty. He seemed not to want to talk to this boy any more than he needed to.

“Oh, sorry,” says the other boy, not sounding sorry at all. “But they were our kind, weren’t they?”

“They were a witch and wizard, if that’s what you mean.” I respond.

“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways.”

A tinkling of a bell interrupted the boy. Three girls walk in, two of them look as though they could be twins, but the other looked completely different from the other two.

“Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?”

But before I could answer, Madam Malkin says, “That’s you done, my dear,” and I, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hop down from the footstool.

“Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” says the drawling boy.

**(Y/N)’s POV**

“He seems like butt-hole.” Thora mutters to me, and the Raven haired boy stopped and looked at me as a let out a snort of laughter.

“Thora!” Iliana hisses at her sister.

“Hello” I say to Harry.

“Oh-h hi” Harry says looking nervous.

“This is Thora,” I say gesturing to Thora, “and Iliana,” I say, gesturing to Iliana, “and I am (Y/N).”

“Hi, Thora, and Iliana, and (Y/N), I’m –“ Harry begins before Thora cuts him off.

“You’re Harry,” Harry then looks at Thora, a look of annoyance on his face.

“Let me guess,” Harry says, sounding exasperated, “You’ve read about me too,”

“No,” I answer, “You entered the Leaky Cauldron just after the three of us.”

“Oh,” Harry says, “Well, nice to meet you three,” He says, and walks out the door.

“You three here for your Hogwarts uniforms?” A witch asks me.

“Uh, yes ma’am,” I say, smiling at her.

A couple of minutes later, the twins and I walk out into the bright sunlit alley, our robes folded neatly in a bag.

“Girls!” I hear Ms. Rachel call to us. I look over to see her holding a cage, and two wooden woven baskets. (Try saying that 5 times, fast). She hands the cage to Thora, and inside is a beautiful barn owl.

  
“Wow! Thanks Mom!” Thora says, stroking the owl softly.

Ms. Rachel then hands her other daughter one of the woven baskets, and hands me the other. In Iliana’s basket there’s lays an adorable brown and white kitten.

  
“Hello, little kitten,” Iliana coos to the kitten, and my heart breaks at the adorableness. I look into my basket and a flash of black and white jumps onto my shoulder and I laugh. It jumps off and back onto the lid of the basket.

“Aww! She’s so cute,” Thora says, petting the small kitten’s head gently.

“I’m gonna call her Marvel,” I say, as the kitten jumps back onto my shoulder, it’s tail on the other.

“Well, I think I’m going to call my kitten, Zena,” Iliana says as the brown and white kitten sticks her head out of the basket, and pawing at Iliana’s hand softly.

“I’m going to call this barn owl, Barney,” Thora say, and I let out a snort of laughter. “What?!” She asks, grinning.

**Ms. Rachel’s POV**

I look at the three girls. I loved them so much, even (Y/N), who wasn’t my own. Her mother was my best friend, I had felt to obligated to look after her. I am still angry about the girls that called her an orphan. Maybe soon, I can talk to Justin about adopting her.

“Well, girls,” I say, and they all look up, their eyes alight with excitement, “Looks like it’s time for your last item on the list. You three need wands.”

**(Y/N)’s POV**

I gently set Marvel back into her basket, and look around for the wand shop.

“There!” I say, pointing to it.

All four of us walk closer, and I look up at the sign overhead, and I read aloud, “Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382b.c.”

“Seems promising,” Thora says, and confidently lead the way into the shop.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as we stepped inside, and an old man walks to the desk from the deep recesses of the shop.

“Hello, good afternoon,” The man says, “I am Mr. Olivander. You three are here for wands I presume?” He asks, and the twins and I nod.

“Okay, how about the shortest one first,” Mr. Olivander says, and Thora steps forward excitedly.

Mr. Olivander does a few measurements before handing a wand to Thora saying, “Wave this around a bit.” She does as he says, and a light bulb shatters and she puts the wand back onto the desk.

Thora tries a few more wands until she gets one that makes a teal glow around her. “Ah, yes a Blackthorn wand with a unicorn tail hair. Blackthorn, which is a very unusual wand wood, has the reputation, in my view well-merited, of being best suited to a warrior.”

“Well, makes sense for Thora,” I say with a grin. “Iliana, do you want to go next?” I say, and she nods, stepping forward.

The same process happens with Iliana until she receives a wand that made a purple glow around her. “Applewood with a Phoenix Feather core. Applewood wands are not made in great numbers. They are powerful and best suited to an owner of high aims and ideals, as this wood mixes poorly with Dark magic. It is said that the possessor of an apple wand will be well-loved and long-lived, and I have often noticed that customers of great personal charm find their perfect match in an Applewood wand.”

“Also, makes sense for Iliana,” Thora and I say in unison.

“Okay, (Y/N), your turn,” Ms. Rachel says, and I step forward nervously.

Again, the same process commences with me, but I end up trying more wands then the other two combined. Finally, I get my wand, and strangely my, “Alder wood with a Phoenix Feather core. Alder is an unyielding wood, yet I have discovered that its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, but often helpful, considerate and most likeable. Whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Alder is also excellent for protection against outside forces, and, when combined with phoenix feather, is a suitable match for a wizard who will “make their mark on this world.’” Mr. Olivander says, and I look up at him in shock. “It also just so happens that the Phoenix who’s feather is in your wand, gave two other feathers, just two.”

“Wow,” Iliana says, looking at me. “That’s a beautiful wand,” She says, walking up to stand beside me.

  
**Time Skip – (Y/N)’s POV**

The next month seemed to go very, very slowly. Thora, of course, was super excited about going to Hogwarts. Iliana and I though, seemed to be a lot more nervous about it, like usual.

Iliana and I learned a couple of simple spells, like Reparo, the repairing spell, Alohomora, the unlocking spell, and Lumos, the wand lighting spell.

The day before we were going to head to Hogwarts, all three of us packed our trunks of all our things for school.

**Time Skip – The Next Morning – (Y/N)’s POV**

“Do you two have your inhalers?” Ms. Rachel asks frantically.

“Yes Mom,” Iliana answers for the two of us. On top of having anxiety, we also had asthma, which wasn’t fun, ever.

“Well, let’s get to the car,” Ms. Rachel says, and the three of us drag our heavy trunks out of the living room and out to the car. The three of us, the twins and I, I mean, were wearing jeans and t-shirt as we didn’t want to wear our robes in the station.

We heave our trunks into the trunk of the car, get in, and head to King’s Cross.

Once we arrive there, we run to get trollies, and sling our trunks onto them, and wheel them into the station.

“Uh, Mom, how do we get onto the station?” Iliana asks.

“Maybe we just run into the wall between Platforms 9 and 10,” I say jokingly.

Thora raises her eyebrows at me, and she says, “Or, we could ask someone how to get onto the Platform.”

We look around to see a plump woman walking by with four boys and a young girl, all with flaming red hair, and the four boys were pushing trunks.

“Come on,” I say, pulling them closer to the family.

“Um, hello,” Iliana says shyly, and the woman turns to us.

“Hello, dears, need to get onto the Platform?” The woman asks.

“Yes, ma’am,” Iliana says, and the woman smiles.

“All you have to do is run into the wall between Platforms 9 and 10,” The woman says, and I shoot a triumphant smirk at Thora.

“Haha, I was right!” I say triumphantly.

The plump woman laughs and we all walk toward the barrier, Ms. Rachel and the plump woman starting up a conversation.

I jump at two voices coming from behind me, “Hello-“

“We’re Fred –“

“And George –“

“Weasley,” They finish in unison.

I turn around to see to identical boys, about two years older than the twins and I.

“Hello I’m (Y/N), this is Thora and Iliana,” I say introducing myself and the twins.

“Are the two of you twins?” Thora asks, grinning.

“Yes –“ Fred, I think, begins.

“Of, course we are.” George, again, I think, finishes.

“Well, my two friends here are twins as well,” I say, and Fred and George look at the two Spence’s curiously.

“Well, why are you here with them, if they are your friends?” George asks curiously.

Thora, Iliana and I all look at each other uncomfortably, “Well,” Thora trails off.

“It’s a long story,” Iliana finishes.

We get to the barrier, and the four of us (Iliana, Thora, Ms. Rachel, and I) walk through the barrier.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock.

“Wow!” Iliana says, her eyes wide with wonder. There were so many people on the Platform that I couldn’t count them all. On top of that, there were cats and owls of so many colors it was hard to believe so many existed.

**3rd Person POV – With Harry**

According to the large clock over the arrivals board, Harry had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and he had no idea how to do it; he was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large owl.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell him something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. He wondered if he should get out his wand and start tapping the ticket inspector’s stand between platforms nine and ten.

At that moment a group of people passed just behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

“— packed with Muggles, of course —”

Harry swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry’s in front of him — and they had an owl.

Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

Now, what’s the platform number?” said the boys’ mother.

“Nine and three-quarters!” piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, “Mom, can’t I go . . .”

“You’re not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first.”

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward Platforms Nine and Ten. Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it — but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two Platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

“Fred, you next,” the plump woman said.

“I’m not Fred, I’m George,” said the boy. “Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can’t you tell I’m George?”

“Sorry, George, dear.”

“Only joking, I am Fred,” said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone — but how had he done it?

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier — he was almost there — and then, quite suddenly, he wasn’t anywhere.

There was nothing else for it.

“Excuse me,” Harry said to the plump woman.

“Hello, dear,” she said. “First time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.”

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.  
“Yes,” said Harry. “The thing is — the thing is, I don’t know how to —”

“How to get onto the platform?” she said kindly, and Harry nodded.

“Not to worry,” she said. “All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous. Go on, go now before Ron.”

“Er — okay,” said Harry.

He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to Platforms Nine and Ten. Harry walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he’d be in trouble — leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run — the barrier was coming nearer and nearer — he wouldn’t be able to stop — the cart was out of control — he was a foot away — he closed his eyes ready for the crash —

It didn’t come . . . he kept on running . . . he opened his eyes.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, “Gran, I’ve lost my toad again.”  
“Oh, Neville,” he heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

“Give us a look, Lee, go on.”  
The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the traindoor. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.

“Want a hand?” It was one of the red-haired twins he’d followed through the barrier.

“Yes, please,” Harry panted.

“Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!”

With the twins’ help, Harry’s trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

Thanks,” said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“What’s that?” said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry’s lightning scar.

“Blimey,” said the other twin. “Are you — ?”

“He is,” said the first twin. “Aren’t you?” he added to Harry.

“What?” said Harry.

“Harry Potter,” chorused the twins.

“Oh, him,” said Harry. “I mean, yes, I am.”

The two boys gawked at him, and Harry felt himself turning red. Then, to his relief, a voice came floating in through the train’s open door.

“Fred? George? Are you there?”

“Coming, Mom.”

With a last look at Harry, the twins hopped off the train.

Harry sat down next to the window where, half hidden, he could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief. He also saw the family of the three girls he had met in Diagon Alley at Madam Malkins’s Robe Shop.

He saw the two the mother and father of the three girls, and felt a pang of, almost envy. The father looked a lot like the shortest girl, Thora I believe her name was, with the same black hair and skin tone.

The tallest girl, Iliana, looks a lot like the mother, same short hair, and nervous smile.

The other girl, (Y/N), seems really out of place with the others. She seems to be standing a little off from the other four. Then both the mother and father turn to her, and embrace her in a tight hug, and she smiles, softly, the other two girls glancing at each other, smiling.

Harry is caught off guard as he overhears the conversation-taking place between the red haired family.

“Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?” One of the red-haired twins says.

Harry leaned back quickly so they couldn’t see him looking.

“You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?”

“Who?”

“Harry Potter!”

Harry heard the little girl’s voice. “Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, oh please. . . .”

“You’ve already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn’t something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?” The mother asks, turning to Fred.

“Asked him. Saw his scar. It’s really there — like lightning.”

“Poor dear — no wonder he was alone, I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform.”

“Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?” One of the twins asks.

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

“I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don’t you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school.”

“All right, keep your hair on.”

A whistle sounded.

Hurry up!” their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

“Don’t, Ginny, we’ll send you loads of owls.” Fred says.

“We’ll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat.” George adds.  
“George!”

“Only joking, Mom.”

The train began to move. Harry saw the boys’ mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.

Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn’t know what he was going to — but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.

( **Y/N)’s POV – On the Train**

Thora, Iliana, and I rush to get onto the train before it leaves, walking from compartment to compartment looking for somewhere to sit.

Then I see something that makes me gasp with shock.

There in one of the compartments was Hermione! She was sitting across from a round faced boy.

“Thora! Iliana! Look!” I say, and the twins look, grinning when they see Hermione. “Let me take this,” I say, surprising myself with a confidence that usually only Thora had.

I open the compartment saying, “Mind if we sit here?” Hermione and the round faced boy look up, and Hermione smiles widely, standing up, and giving me a hug.

“Of course, I don’t mind.” Hermione says. “What about you, Neville?” Hermione says, turning towards the round faced boy, whose name was clearly, Neville.

“I don’t mind.” Neville says, then adds, “I just want to find my toad.”

“I’ll help look,” I offer, and I see Thora and Iliana nod as well.

“Coming ‘Mione?” Iliana asks, and Hermione nods.

We all leave the compartment, going in opposite directions, looking for Neville’s toad.

**Time Skip – Still (Y/N)’s POV**

We all meet back up in the compartment we started in.

“Did anyone find Trevor?” Neville asks and we all shake our heads reluctantly, not wanting to give the poor boy any bad news. Neville groans.

“What about we all look together?” I suggest, and the others nod.

“Just give me a moment,” I say, digging through my trunk, looking for my robes.

I find them, then dart out of the compartment to the bathroom, changing quickly, returning to the compartment..

“Okay, off to look for Trevor,” Thora says, laughing slightly.

All five of us walk down the passages asking everyone if they had seen a toad anywhere.

We reach a compartment where Harry and one of the red-haired boys that we had walked through the station with.

Hermione slides the compartment door open, and we all step in.

**3rd Person POV – Harry’s Perspective**

Ron raises his wand just when the compartment door slides open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him, and the three girls from Diagon Alley. (Y/N) and the unknown girl were already wearing their new Hogwarts robes.

“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” the unknown girl says. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

“We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” said Ron, but the girl wasn’t listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.”

She sat down. Ron looks taken aback, but the other three girls didn’t. They just look at each other, a knowing look in their eyes.

“Er — all right.” Ron clears his throat. “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.”

He waves his wand, but nothing happens. Scabbers stays gray and fast asleep.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” says the girl. “Well, it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard — I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?” She says all this very fast.

Harry looks at Ron, and is relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn’t learned all the course books by heart either, but (Y/N) and Iliana look at Hermione, nodding in agreement, clearly meaning that the two of them had learned all the course books by heart.

“I’m Ron Weasley,” Ron mutters.

“Harry Potter,” Harry says.

“Are you really?” asks Hermione. “I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”

“Am I?” asks Harry, feeling dazed.

“Goodness, didn’t you know. I’ve found out everything I could if it was me,” says Hermione. “Do either of you know what House you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around, and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad. . . Anyway, we’d better go look for Neville’s toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.”

Hermione leaves taking Neville, Thora, and Iliana, with her, leaving (Y/N) behind, a glint in her green eyes.

“Sorry about her,” She says, “She’s just really excited about going to Hogwarts, I mean, if you couldn’t tell. Why are your glasses broken?” (Y/N) then asks Harry.

“Cousin . . .” Harry says, and (Y/N) walks over to him, pulling out her wand.

“Let me try something,” she says, pointing her wand in his face, his eyes crossing slightly. “Reparo!” She says, and the glasses mend themselves. Harry takes them off, looking in wonderment between his glasses, Ron, and (Y/N).

“That’s better, isn’t it?” (Y/N) asks, laughing slightly.

“Uh, yeah, thanks, (Y/N),” Harry says.

“Well, I’d better go find my friends,” (Y/N) says, walking out of the compartment, closing the compartment door on the way out.

**Time Skip - (Y/N)’s POV**

A couple of hours after meeting Harry and Ron in their compartment, we arrived at Hogwarts.

A voice echoed through the train, “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately.”

Thora and Iliana fled to put their robes on, coming in about two minutes later.

The train slows down, and finally stops. People push their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. A lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students and a loud voice calls, “Firs’ years? Firs’ years over here! All right there , Harry?” It must have been Hagrid, the man who was with Harry in Diagon Alley.

“C’mon, follow me – any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years follow me!” Hagrid says.

All of us slipping and stumbling, we follow Hagrid down what seems to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark that I thought there must be thick trees here. Nobody spoke much, the only one making any noise was Neville, we still hadn’t been able to find his toad.

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid calls over his shoulder, “jus’ round this bend here.”

There was a loud, “Oooooh!” I didn’t realize that one came from my mouth as well.

A narrow path opens suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling brightly in the starry sky was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid calls, pointing to a fleet of boats sitting in the water by the shore. Thora, Iliana and I are followed into a boat by Hermione of course.

“Everyone in?” Hagrid shouts, who has a boat to himself. “Right then – FORWARD!”

Then the fleet of little boats moves off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. No one spoke as the little fleet of boats carries us through a curtain of ivy that hides a wide opening in the cliff face. We’re carried along a dark tunnel, which seems to be taking us right underneath the castle, until we reach a kind of underground harbor, where we all clamber out onto rocks and pebbles.

“Oy, you there! Is this your toad?” Hagrid asks, who was checking the boats as all of us climb out of them.

“Trevor!” cries Neville blissfully, holding out his hands.

We all clamber up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid’s lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

We all walk up a fight of stone steps and crowd around the huge oak front door.

“Neville, still got Trevor?” I ask, my (H/L), (H/C) hair flying back over my shoulders as the door opens.

**Word Count: 8,635 words**

**Wow! This is the first chapter!**

**What did you think? I hope it was okay.**

**I also just realized that I ended the first chapter with a massive cliffhanger.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a Wattpad, too: https://my.w.tt/tmlX0m2QV5


	3. Chapter 2: The Sorting Hat

**3rd Person POV**

The door swings open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. (Y/N) instantly recognizes the woman and nudges the twins, muttering, “Professor McGonagall. “

The twins nod in agreement.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” says Hagrid.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” Professor McGonagall says.

Professor McGonagall opens the door wider. The entrance hall was so big, Harry thinks, you could fit the whole of the Dursley’s house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

The new students follow Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry hears the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall shows the first years into the small, empty chamber off of the hall. The students crowd in, standing rather closer together than they normally would have, peering about nervously.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall says. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.”

“The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.” Professor McGonagall says. “Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.”

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school,” (Y/N), Thora, and Iliana’s gazes all meet at Professor McGonagall’s words. “I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” Professor McGonagall’s eyes linger for a moment on Neville’s cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron’s smudged nose.

(Y/N) looks over and sees Harry nervously trying to flatten his hair.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” Professor McGonagall tells the nervous first years, “Please wait quietly.”

She leaves the chamber, and Harry swallows.

“How exactly do they sort us into Houses?” Harry asks Ron.

“Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.” Ron answers, and Harry’s heart gives a horrible jolt.

A test? In front of the while school? But Harry didn’t know any magic yet = what on earth would he have to do? He hadn’t expected something like this the moment he arrived. He looks around anxiously and saw that everyone else looks terrified, too, except the short, brown haired girl from Diagon Alley that had been with (Y/N). No one was talking much except for Hermione Granger, and (Y/N) (L/N), who were whispering very fast to each other all the spells they had learned and wondering which ones they might need. Harry is trying really hard not to listen to them. He had never been more nervous, never, not even when he’d had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he’d somehow turned his teacher’s wig blue. Harry and (Y/N) kept their eyes on the door. Any second now, Harry thinks, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead Harry to his doom.

Then something happened that made Harry jump about a foot in the air – several people behind him scream.

“What the -?”

Harry gasps, and so did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed thought the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. The ghost seemed to be arguing. What looks like to be a fat little monk says, “Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to five him a second chance –“

“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?”

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights seems to have noticed the first years.

(Y/N) raises her hand nervously, and the ghost in the ruff turns to her.

“Yes?” He asks.

“We’re new students, we’re about to be sorted,” She says, shaking a little.

A few people nod in agreement.

“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” says the Friar. “My old House, you know.”

“Move along now,” a sharp voice says. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”

Professor McGonagall had returned to the hall, and one by one, the ghosts float away through the opposite wall.

“Now, form a line,” Professor McGonagall tells the first years, “and follow me.”

(Y/N) felling nervous, falls in line behind Ron, with Thora behind her, and Iliana and Hermione behind her. Professor McGonagall leads the first years out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

(Y/N) had never imagined such an amazing thing could exist. Thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, probably the House tables, (Y/N) thinks, where the older students were sitting, light the Great Hall. On the tops of the tables, there were glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall leads the first years towards the table, so that they come to a halt in a line facing the other students. Hundreds of faces stare back at them like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight, and dotted among the students, the ghost shone a misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, harry looks upwards and sees a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. Harry hears Hermione whisper, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in –“

“Hogwarts, A History?” (Y/N) asks, with a smile.

It was hard to believe there was a celling there at all, Harry thinks, and that the Great hall didn’t simply open on to the heavens.

Harry quickly looks down again as Professor McGonagall silently places a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool, she puts a pointed wizard’s hat. The hat was so patched and frayed, and extremely dirty, Aunt Petunia wouldn’t have let it in the house, Harry thinks.

Harry think wildly, Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, It seems the soft of thing. (Y/N) then notices that everyone is staring at the hat, and she looks towards it too. For a few moments, there was complete silence, then the hat twitches, a rip near the brim opens wide like a mouth – and the hat begins to sing:

_“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,_  
 _But don’t judge on what you see,_  
 _I’ll eat myself if you can find_  
 _A smarter hat than me._  
 _You can keep your bowlers black,_  
 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_  
 _For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_  
 _And I can cap them all._  
 _There’s nothing hidden in your head_  
 _The Sorting Hat can’t see,_  
 _So try me on and I will tell you_  
 _Where you ought to be._  
 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_  
 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_  
 _Set Gryffindors apart;_  
 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
 _Where they are just and loyal,_  
 _Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_  
 _And unafraid of toil;_  
 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
 _If you’ve a ready mind,_  
 _Where those of wit and learning,_  
 _Will always find their kind;_  
 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
 _You’ll make your real friends,_  
 _Those cunning folk use any means_  
 _To achieve their ends._  
 _So put me on! Don’t be afraid !_  
 _And don’t get in a flap!_  
 _You’re in safe hands (though I have none)_  
 _For I’m a Thinking Cap!”_

The whole hall bursts into applause as the hat finishes its song. It bows to each of the four tables and then becomes quote still again.

“So we’ve just got to try on the hat!” Ron whispers to Harry. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.”

Harry smiles weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but Harry wishes they could hace tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seems to be asking rather a lot; Harry didn’t feel brace or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the had had mentions a House fr people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

Professor McGonagall now steps forward holding a long roll of parchment.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she says, and the twins and (Y/N) share excited glances with Hermione. “Abbott, Hannah!” Professor McGonagall calls the first name.

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbles out of line, puts on the hat, but before the hat falls over her eyes, (Y/N) shoots her a smile, and Hannah smiles back. The hat falls over Hannah’s eyes, and after a moment’s pause –

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouts the hat.

The table on the right cheers and claps as Hannah goes to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. (Y/N) sees ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

“Bones, Susan!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouts the hat again, and Susan moves to sit next to Hannah.

“Boot, Terry!”

“RAVENCLAW!” shouts the hat and the table second from the left claps this time; several Ravenclaws stand up to shake hands with Terry as he joins them.

“Brocklehurst, Mandy” went to Ravenclaw too, but “Brown, Lavender” becomes the first Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could wee Ron’s twin brothers catcalling.

“Bulstrode, Millicent,” then becomes a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry’s imagination, after all he’d heard about Slytherin, but he thought they look like an unpleasant lot.

Harry definitely looks sick, (Y/N) thought. Harry remembered being picked for teams during gym at his old school. Harry had always been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him.

“Finch – Fletchley, Justin!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

Sometimes, (Y/N) noticed, the hat shouted out the House at once, but at others it took a while to decide. “Finnigan, Seamus,” the sandy-haired boy that was standing next to harry in line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

“Granger, Hermione!”

(Y/N) and the twins smile at Hermione as she ran to the stool and jams the hat eagerly on her head.

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouts the hat, and Ron groans.

A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you’re very nervous. What if he wasn’t chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he’d better get back on the train?

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, “GRYFFINDOR,” Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to “MacDougal, Morag.”

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!”

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren’t many people left now.

“Moon” . . . , “Nott” . . . , “Parkinson” . . . , then a pair of twin girls, “Patil” and “Patil” . . . , then “Perks, Sally-Anne” . . . , and then, at last —

“Potter, Harry!”

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

“Potter, did she say?”

“The Harry Potter?”

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

“Hmm,” said a small voice in his ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting. . . . So where shall I put you?”

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.

“Not Slytherin, eh?” said the small voice. “Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that — no? Well, if you’re sure — better be GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasle twins yelled, “We got Potter! We got Potter!” Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he’d seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he’d just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he’d gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore’s silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

And now there were only seven people left to be sorted. “Spence, Iliana,” sat on the stool for about three minutes before the hat shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!” “Spence, Thora,” also became a Gryffindor, and ran over to sit with her sister, across from Hermione.

Thomas, Dean,” a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. “Turpin, Lisa,” became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron’s turn. He was pale green by now. Harry crossed his finger under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.

“Well done, Ron, excellent,” said Percy Weasley pompously across Harry.

There were only two people left to be sorted, (Y/N), and a tall boy with black hair.

“(L/N), (Y/N)!” Professor McGonagall shouts, and the (H/L), (H/C) steps up to the stool. She turns around, and looks nervously, Thora and Iliana meet her gaze, and they smile at her softly.

**(Y/N)’s POV**

I sit on the stool, and the hat falls over my eyes.

I jump a little as I hear the Sorting Hat starts talking in my head. “Well, your ambitious, and a strong leader, I see, qualities of Slytherins, ah, but there is something else here, patience and loyalty, also qualities of a Hufflepuff. But there’s something else here, wisdom, wit, and a lot of creativity, all qualities of Ravenclaw. But also courage, bravery, and daring, so where to put you?” The hat asks.

**Iliana’s POV**

“Wow! (Y/N)’s been on that stool for like ten minutes.” I say to Thora.

“Maybe she’s stuck to the stool,” Thora says, smiling.

“Hatstall, she’s the first hatstall since Peter Pettigrew,” says the older, red-haired boy sitting across from Harry.

Finally, the hat shouts, “GRYFFINDOR!”

The whole Gryffindor table seemed to explode, and the other tables groaned, it seemed that everyone wanted the “Hatstall Girl.”

**3rd Person POV**

(Y/N) takes the hat off her head, then grins, running over to Thora, Hermione, and Iliana. She sits down just as “Zabini, Blaise,” was made a Slytherin, beside Hermione; across from Iliana. Professor McGonagall rolls up her scroll, and takes the Sorting Hat away.

(Y/N) see Thora look down at her gold plate, and mutter something about being hungry.

Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet, and he was beaming at the students, his arms open wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

“Welcome!” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!” Professor Dumbledore finishes, sitting down.

Everyone clapped and cheered, (Y/N) and the twins didn’t know whether to laugh or not. Down at the other end of the table, Harry was thinking the same thing.

“Is he – a bit mad?” Harry asks Percy uncertainly.

“Mad?” Percy answers airily. “He’s a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?”

Harry’s mouth falls open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

The Dursleys had never starved Harry, but he’d never been allowed to eat as much as he had wanted. Dudley had always take anything that Harry really wanted, even if it made him sick. Harry piles his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and begins to eat. It was delicious.

“That does look good,” says the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

“Cant you -?”

“I haven’t eaten for nearly five hundred years,” says the ghost. “I don’t need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don’t think I’ve introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower.”

“I know who you are!” Ron says suddenly. “My brothers told me about you – you’re Nearly Headless Nick!”

I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy —” the ghost began stiffly, but Hermione Granger interrupted, (Y/N) looking over interestedly over her shoulder.

“Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?”

“Now, Hermione dear, that’s not polite,” (Y/N) says, and Hermione grins at her before turning her attention back to the ghost.

Sir Nicholas looks extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn’t going at all the way he had wanted.

“Like this,” he says irritably. He seizes his left ear and pulls; his whole head swings off his neck and falls onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had clearly tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking very pleased at the stunned looks on the first year Gryffindors’ faces, Nearly Headless Nick flips his head back onto his neck, coughs, and says, “So – new Gryffindors! I hope you’re going to help us win the house Championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron’s becoming almost unbearable – he’s the Slytherin ghost.”

(Y/N) and Harry look over at the Slytherin table and see a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank starting eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was sitting right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn’t look very pleased with the seating arrangement.

“How did he get covered in blood?” Thora and Seamus Finnigan ask with great interest.

“I’ve never asked,” says Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food fades from the plates, leaving hem sparkling clean as before, then, a moment later the deserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, Jell-O, rice pudding, and an assortment of fresh fruits.

As (Y/N) helps herself to a couple of strawberries and some chocolate éclairs, the talk turned to their families.

“I’m half-and-half,” explains Seamus. “Me dad’s a Muggle. Mom didn’t tell him she was a witch ’til after they were married. Bit of nasty shock for him.”

The others laugh, and Ron turns to Neville.

“What about you, Neville?” Ron asks.

“Well, my gran brought me up and she’s a witch,” Neville begins, “but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me — he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned — but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced — all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here — they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad.”

(Y/N) turns back to Thora, Iliana, and Hermione, who were all discussing to Percy Weasley about lessons.

“I do hope they start right away, there’s so much to learn, I’m particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it’s supposed to be very difficult –“ Hermione rambles.

“You’ll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing –“ Percy says.

“Well, what about Charms?” Iliana asks shyly, “What’s that like?”

“Well, in Charms, you learn to cast spells that alter an object without changing it’s nature.” Percy says.

“Wait,” (Y/N) interrupts, “so if we were given, like, a teapot, would we have to make it dance across the desk?”

“Yes, exactly (Y/N), that doesn’t change how it looks, if you wanted to turn it into a tortoise, that spell would be taught in Transfiguration.” Percy explains.

“Wait, wait, wait! What about Defense Against the Dark Arts?” Thora asks, it was the subject she was most excited to learn about.

“Well,” Percy begins. “Defense Against the Dark Arts is usually shortened to D.A.D.A. and they teach us how to defend us against dark spells and creatures. Professor Quirrell teaches the class.”

“Wow…” Thora says.

“Ouch!” comes a yelp from the other side of Percy, and Thora, Iliana, (Y/N), Hermione, and Percy turn towards Harry who has his hand clapped to his head.

“Are you alright, Harry?” (Y/N) asks.

“What is it?” Percy asks, in unison.

“N-nothing.” Harry says, the pain had gone as quickly as it had come. It was harder to shake off the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher’s look – a feeling that he didn’t like Harry at all.

“Who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” Harry asks, and the four girls, and Percy’s gaze turn to the head table.

“OH, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he’s looking so nervous, that’s Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn’t want to – everyone knows he’s after Quirrell’s job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape.” Percy says.

Hermione, Thora, Iliana, and (Y/N) turn their attentions back to each other, and they start up a conversation, but (Y/N) notices out of the corner of her eye, Harry watching Snape for a while, but Snape never looks back at Harry.

At last, the desserts disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore gets to his feet, the hall falling silent.

“Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.” He begins.

“First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes flashes in the direction of the Weasley twins, as he says the last part. “I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.” Thora, Iliana, and (Y/N)’s eyes meet at Dumbledore’s last few words, and Harry laughs, but he was one of the few that did.

“He’s not serious?” Harry mutters to Percy.

“Must be,” says Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. “It’s odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we’re not allowed to go somewhere – the forest’s full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least.”

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” cries Dumbledore. Harry notices that the other teachers’ smiles had become rather fixed.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twists itself, snakelike, into words.

“Everyone pick their favorite tune,” said Dumbledore, “and off we go!”

And the whole school bellows:

_“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_   
_Teach us something please,_   
_Whether we be old and bald_   
_Or young with scabby knees,_   
_Our heads could do with filling_   
_With some interesting stuff,_   
_For now they’re bare and full of air,_   
_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_   
_So teach us things worth knowing,_   
_Bring back what we’ve forgot,_   
_Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,_   
_And learn until our brains all rot.”_

Everyone finishes the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins and Thora were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducts their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who claps the loudest.

“Ah, music,” Dumbledore says, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

The Gryffindor fist years follow Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry’s legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was to sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climb up more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and (Y/N) was just wondering how much farther thy had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and (Y/N)’s head cocks in confusion. Percy takes a step toward them as they start throwing themselves at him.

“Peeves,” Percy whispers to the first years. “A poltergeist.” He raises his voice, “Peeves – show yourself.”

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answers.

“Do you want me to get the Bloody Baron?” Percy asks.

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appears, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

“Oooooooh!” he says, with an evil cackle. “Ickle Firsties! What fun!”

He swoops suddenly at them, and they all duck.

“Go away, Peeves, or the Baron’ll hear about this, I mean it!” barks Percy.

Peeves sticks out his tongue and vanishes, dropping the walking sticks on (Y/N)’s head, and Iliana looks at her sister/ friend, rapidly asking her if she was okay. They hear him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passes.

“You want to watch out for Peeves,” says Percy, as they set off again. “The Bloody Baron’s the only one who can control him, he won’t even listen to us prefects. Here we are.”

At the very end of the corridor hangs a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. “Password?” she asks.

“Caput Draconis,” said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it – Neville needed a leg up - and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

**(Y/N)’s POV**

Percy directs us girls through a door to our dormitories, Hermione, Thora, Iliana, and I talking as we go.

I lead the way into the dormitory, where I see Marvel laying on Hermione’s bed. “Looks like Marvel really like you,” I say, and Hermione pets the kitten. Thora looks over, smiling as she sees her owl Barney standing on her bedside table.

Hermione lets out a little squeak as Iliana’s kitten Zena jumps onto her shoulder. Iliana laughs, and grabs her kitten, taking her back over to her own bed.

I get into my pajamas and the twins and Hermione good night before drifting off to sleep, Marvel curling up beside me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: About 5,070, a lot lower than the last one.
> 
> Finally, I got this chapter done!
> 
> Do y’all like this book so far? I was thinking, when the reader and Spences go back home, Rachel and Justin decide to adopt (Y/N), officially.
> 
> Comment below if you think this is a good idea.
> 
> Love y’all  
> Bye,   
> Kaitlynn


	4. Chapter 3: The Potions Master

**3rd Person POV**

“There, look.”

“Where?”

“Next to the tall kid with the red hair.”

“Wearing the glasses?”

“Did you see his face?”

“Did you see his scar?”

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he and Ron left their dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms standing on tip-toe to get a look at him. Harry wished they wouldn’t, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were the doors that wouldn’t open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren’t really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, Harry thinks, because it all seems to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and (Y/N) and Iliana were sure that the suits of amour would walk.

The ghosts didn’t help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist when you were late to class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, “GOT YOUR CONK!” The only person that Peeves seemed to get along with was, strangely, (Y/N). When she would pass by him in the halls, he would ask how her day was going. The first time, (Y/N) was shocked, looking surprised at the poltergeist, then she nodded saying, “Uh, its going pretty well.”

Even worse than Peeves, Harry thinks, if that was possible, was the caretaker Argus Filch. Harry and Ron manage to get on the wrong side of him on their first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn’t believe they were lost, he was sure that they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing by.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch’s. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she’d whisk off for Filch, who’d appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone – except perhaps the Weasley twins – and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

Then, once you manage to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

(Y/N) enjoyed Wednesday nights where they went out to the tallest tower and learned the names of different planets and stars. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class, in (Y/N)’s eyes, was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns hand been very old when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up the next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while the students scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up. Hermione had told (Y/N) that she actually liked the class, and (Y/N) looked down at her.

“Honestly, Hermione,” (Y/N) teases, “I’m not surprised.”

One of (Y/N)’s favorite classes so far had to be Charms. Professor Flitwick was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class, he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry’s name, he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight, (Y/N) rolling her eyes.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been right to think she wasn’t a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

“Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,” she tells them. “Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.”

Then, she changes her desk into a pig and back again. They were very impressed and couldn’t wait to get started, but soon they realized that they weren’t going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After they take a lot of complicated notes, they were given a match and told to start turning it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger, Iliana Spence, and (Y/N) (L/N) had made any differences to their match. Professor McGonagall shows the class how it had gone a silver and pointy and gives the three a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell’s lessons turn out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he’d met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, hand been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren’t sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Thora Spence asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell goes pink, and starts talking about the weather. For another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins and Thora insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Harry was relieved to find out that he wasn’t miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn’t had any idea that they were witches and wizards.

There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn’t have much of a head start.

Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron, the two had managed to find their way to the Great hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

“What have we got today?” Harry asks Ron as he pours sugar on his porridge.

“Double Potions with the Slytherins,” Ron answers. “Snape’s Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them – we’ll be able to see if it’s true.”

“Whish McGonagall favored us,” says Harry. Professor McGonagall was the head of Gryffindor House, but it didn’t stop her from giving them a huge pile of homework the night before.

Just then, the mail arrives. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Hedwig hadn’t brought Harry anything so far. She would sometimes fly in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she flutters down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and drops a note onto Harry’s plate. Harry tears open the letter at once, and it says, in a very untidy scrawl:

_Dear Harry,_

_I know you get Friday afternoons off so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._

_Hagrid_

Harry, borrowing Ron’s quill, scribbles _, Yes, please, see you later_ on the back fo the note, and sends Hedwig off again.

It was luck that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to him so far.

At the start-of-term banquet, Harry got the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he’d been wrong. Snape didn’t dislike Harry – he hated him.

Potions lesson took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call and like Flitwick, he pauses at Harry’s name.

“Ah, yes,” he says softly, “Harry Potter, our new – celebrity.”

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle snigger behind their hands. Snape finishes calling the names and looks up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid’s, but they had none of Hagrid’s warmth. They were cold and empty and made (Y/N) think of a dark tunnel.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” the Potion Master begins. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word – like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

More silence follows this little speech. Harry and Ron exchange looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione and Iliana were on the edges of their seats and Hermione looks desperate to start proving that she wasn’t a dunderhead.

“Potter!” says Snape suddenly. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glances at Ron, who looks as stumped as he was; Hermione, Iliana, and (Y/N) had all raised their hands.

“I don’t know, sir,” Harry says.

Snape’s lips curled into a sneer.

“Tut, tut – fame clearly isn’t anything.”

He ignores Hermione and Iliana’s hands, his gaze flicking between Harry and (Y/N)’s hand.

“Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?” Snape asks.

Hermione’s hand stretched higher into the air, as far as it would go without her leaving her seat and (Y/N) and Iliana left their hands into the air.

Harry didn’t have to faintest idea what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.

“I don’t know, sir,” Harry answers.

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” Snape taunts, (Y/N) frowning slightly.

Harry forces himself to keep looking into Snape’s cold, dark eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys’, but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?”

Snape was still ignoring Hermione and Iliana’s hands, still glancing between Harry and (Y/N).

“What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?” Snape asks, and Iliana’s hand lowers down to her desk, and she looks stumped, though (Y/N) and Hermione’s hands remained in the air, Hermione standing up, her hand stretching towards the dungeon’s ceiling.

“I don’t know,” says Harry quietly. “I think Hermione and (Y/N) know, why don’t you try them?”

A few people laugh; Harry catches Thora’s eye, and she winks at him. Snape however was not pleased.

“Sit down,” he snaps at Hermione, “(L/N), answer the questions,” Snape says, his head snapping to look at (Y/N).

(Y/N) straightens her back, clears her throat before saying, “Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, but they also go by aconite. A bezoar is a stone taken from a goat that will save you from most poisons, and asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so strong that it is called the Draft of Living Death.” (Y/N) rattles off, Harry and Ron exchanging shocked looks while the Spence twins pull out parchment and quills and scribble down what (Y/N) had said.

“Correct, ten points to Gryffindor,” Snape says to (Y/N), before snapping at the other students, “Well, why aren’t you coping that down?” There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment, and over the noise, Snape says, “And a point will be taken from Gryffindor because of Potter’s cheek.” At this. (Y/N) turns around from her place in front of Ron, and smiles sympathetically at him.

Things didn’t really improve much for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape set the first-years into pairs and set them to mixing a potion to cure boils, sweeping around in his black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush shake fang, criticizing everyone but Malfoy and (Y/N), whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at how well (Y/N) had stewed her horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing fills the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus’s cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people’s shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools wile Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moans in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

“Idiot boy!” snarls Snape, clearing the potion away with one wave of his wand. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?”

Neville whimpers as boils start popping up all over his nose.

“Take him up to the Hospital Wing,” Snape snaps at Seamus. Then he rounds on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

“You – Potter – why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he’d made you look good if helot it wrong, did you? That’s another point you’ve lost for Gryffindor.”

Harry thinks this is so unfair, he opens his mouth to argue, but Ron kicks him from behind their cauldron.

“Don’t push it,” Ron mutters as (Y/N) turn around to look at him, “I’ve heard Snape can turn very nasty.”

As the first years climb the stairs out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry’s mind was racking and his spirits were low. He’d lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week – why did Snape hate him so much? At least (Y/N) had won those ten points for Gryffindor.

“Cheer up,” Ron tells Harry, “Snape’s always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?” he asks.

**(Y/N)’s POV**

The twins, Hermione and I were walking up from the dungeons behind Harry and Ron after the end of Potions class.

“I noticed something strange,” Thora says.

“What?” I ask.

“Snape seems to like you, a lot,” Thora says, looking at me with her chocolate brown eyes.

“That was kind of weird,” Iliana says, her taller form behind me as we all walk up the stairs.

“That was kind of weird,” I say, looking first at the twins, then Hermione.

“Maybe he was wondering how you got to be so good at potions,” Hermione says. “You were the only one of us with a perfect potion.”

“Yeah, that must have been it,” I say as we enter the Great Hall.

After lunch, the four of us walk outside to sit by the Black Lake. I see Ron and Harry walking down to Hagrid’s Hut, and I hear a faint barking coming from the same direction.

“Hello, (Y/N),” A voice says, I look up to see the Weasley twins.

“Hey Fred, George,” I answer cheerfully.

“What are you first years doing out here?” Fred asks, and Thora laughs.

“Well, week one of school is over,” Iliana begins, her hair blowing slightly in the wind.

“So we are enjoying the last of the summer air,” Thora finishes for her twin.

“Thora, we have a question for you,” George says.

“What?” Thora asks curiously.

Fred and George look at each other before saying in unison, “Do you like funeral marches?”

Iliana, Hermione, and I burst into laughter at the question, and Fred and George sit down beside the four of us.

“Well, of course,” Thora says, grinning, “It’s my favorite song to sing,” she says, beginning to hum a slow funeral march, and the Weasley twins join in. Iliana, Hermione, and I look at each other, shrug, and join in.

**Word Count: About 2,922 words**

**See y'all!**

**Love,**   
**Kaitlynn**

**Author's Note:**

> I have a Wattpad, too: https://my.w.tt/tmlX0m2QV5


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